


Stronger Than This

by Laiquilasse



Series: Of Heat and Hearts [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha John, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Complete, Explicit Sexual Content, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No one saw this coming, Omega Sherlock, Omega Verse, Rimming, Sex Toys, oh no whoever could guess what might happen, things that are sins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7676395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laiquilasse/pseuds/Laiquilasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is convinced John is stronger than his Alpha instincts, and he stronger than his Omega. So when Sherlock goes into heat, this is the first time John remains at Baker Street with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Early Heat

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Сильнее этого](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13501936) by [Mariyana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariyana/pseuds/Mariyana)



Sherlock had always been precise about his heats. They were highlighted on the calendar, synced on every device, including John's phone. Under no circumstances was a slip-up permitted.

And it worked. John would go and stay with Greg, or Molly, or in a hotel for three days whilst Sherlock had free roam of the flat to do... Whatever it was he did. John had an idea, of course. Omegas basically wanked and fingered themselves into oblivion for the duration. Difficult to imagine Sherlock doing that, mind. Not that John thought about it. Much. Only when it was Sherlock's heat. And it was just morbid curiosity. He'd come back after the third day, and walk into the smell of Sherlock's orgasms, his pleasure reeling from his bedroom, on the sofa, all over the flat. The only place safe was John's bedroom, and that was because he kept it locked. Sometimes Sherlock's heat smell was on the outside, and it was forgivable - his omega side was searching for an alpha, and John's room was soaked in his alpha scent.

If John had been in, he wouldn't have been able to keep his door locked.

Many people assumed he didn't. That John at least saw Sherlock through his heats, if they weren't actually bonded.

No chance. Sherlock had made his opinion of that quite clear. And John was way past that at his age. Surely.

 

*

 

John blinked, looking up as he stirred the tea. "What is that?"

  
"What's what?" Sherlock said into his microscope.

  
"That..." John inhaled over the mugs. "It's - oh." He blushed. "Oh, it's you."

  
Sherlock took his eyes from the viewfinder. "Me?" He sat for a moment and considered. "Yes, I think you might be right. That's annoying."

  
"So much for careful planning," John looked at the calendar. They were meant to have two more days. "I'll go get a bag-"

  
"There's no need for that," Sherlock went back to his slides.

  
"What?"

  
"It's not full-blown. Just starting up. It's fine."

  
"I don't think I should be here," John said, making no effort to move.

  
"John, you've been around me in this pre-heat stage before and managed to restrain yourself."

  
"Have I?"

  
"Yes."

  
"I hadn't noticed."

  
"Evidently." Sherlock swapped the slides out.

  
John picked up his mug. "So... You're fine. For a bit. It's just..." He really wanted to breathe in deeply. Intake that lingering scent of new heat. "It's just, you..."

  
Sherlock looked up, vaguely pityingly. "John. Are you seriously telling me you're being affected by this? This isn't even heat. You're such a stereotype."

  
"I am not a stereotype," John marched into the lounge, away from the smell. "I'm not some idiot alpha who can't keep it in his pants."

  
"Which is why I haven't told you to leave," Sherlock said.

  
"Not yet."

  
"You leave on your own."

  
John looked up. "What?"

  
"You take yourself off. I've never sent you."

  
"You... Wouldn't mind if I stayed?" John said slowly, aware of what he was implying.

  
"You wouldn't take advantage of me."

  
John snorted a laugh. "Take advantage? Sherlock, if we were both here, we'd not have much choice. Our - our biology would make us..."

  
"No, it wouldn't."

  
"Are you serious?"

  
Sherlock sighed and looked up. "John, you're not a slave to your alpha instincts. You prove that when you leave the flat, and when you come back and I know what the place must smell like to you. You don't react. Much. You're above it."

  
John sat back. "It wouldn't be the same if... God, I can smell you from here," he rubbed his nose. "Sherlock, I don't think this is pre-anything."

  
Sherlock shifted on the tall stool. "You might be right. Possibly this discussion of instincts and mating behaviour is causing some sort of sexual reaction-"

  
John clamped his hands over his ears. "Shut up. I'm going. I'll see you in three days, and -" he took his hands down, Sherlock was shaking his head. "What?"

  
"Stay."

  
"What?!"

  
"John, we are not animals, we have more to us than mating and instincts and scents," Sherlock threw up his hands. "If I can control myself, I'm certain you can, too. And there'll be no need for you leaving the flat every month and interrupting the work."

  
John stared. "You want me, an alpha, to stay with you, an omega, during your heat, and not do... anything."

  
"Yes," Sherlock said as if John was a dunce.

  
"This is going to end in tears," John shook his head. "And you know it."

  
"We'll see," Sherlock shrugged. He looked back into his microscope.

 


	2. Am I Terrible?

It was just about bearable, if John sat at the opposite side of the room. He concentrated on his blog, and tried to ignore the fact that Sherlock smelled more and more like something utterly edible by the second. This was never going to work. John closed his eyes for a second and tried to reason it out. Sherlock would go fully into heat, and then, hopefully, retreat to his bedroom. John would have to stick it out, maybe go on extended trips out of the house... But to come back into full-on heat scent after fresh air might flip his alpha switch. Perhaps it would be better to stay in, and get used to it.

After what seemed like an age, Sherlock pushed his bar-stool back from the kitchen table. "In the shower."

John nodded, holding his breath, trying not to think about Sherlock naked, Sherlock running his hands over his body, checking for changes, seeing if his entrance was softening and slickening yet, testing the responses of his cock. "Kay." He stayed still until he heard the groan of the water pipes. Then he stood, and went up to his room, unable to fight off the urge to change his clothes. There was an omega, about to enter heat, cleansing himself. John's alpha instincts needed him to be ready for what it perceived as an invitation-to-come.

It wouldn't. And even if it did, John wouldn't accept. Even if Sherlock came crawling to his bedroom door, as John knew he had in the past, John would have to keep him locked out. Even if Sherlock was whining, wet and open at the door, beging for John's knot, John would have to say no.

Oh, god.

John forced himself back down the stairs in a clean plaid shirt and jeans, and started cooking. He went for the strongest-smelling pasta sauce he could manage, crushing unnecessary garlic cloves in an attempt to disguise the lingering smell of 'omega-in-heat'. No, 'Sherlock-in-heat'. A unique and utterly lovely scent that was only going to get stronger.

The shower clicked off, at long last, the hot water presumaby having run out. John started frying onions, stinking out the flat, and definately not thinking about Sherlock drying and dressing himself.

"What are you cooking?" he heard Sherlock shout.

"Pasta sauce," John yelled back.

"It smells like an onion factory," Sherlock snapped.

"Guessing you don't want any?"

"No."

Not surprising. Most omegas fasted at the start of their heats, particularly males. Their digestive systems practically shut down aside from dealing with fluids, all their excess energy going into mating and breeding and conceiving. It was a time for their alpha mate to take care of them, keep them hydrated and carry them to and from the bath and wait on their every need as well as satisfy their sexual needs. Except Sherlock had no mate, and never had. John never had, either, though he had been betrothed as a young man, at his parents' wishes. The engagement had been broken off when he joined the army. His prospective omega mate was not willing to wait for his tour to finish. She wanted a family as quickly as possible.

John took his dinner to the armchair, and ate it slowly, deliberately inhaling the scent of tomatoes and garlic and peppers and cheese, blocking out anything else. It seemed to be working. And possibly Sherlock's shower had, too - all John could smell was food, and the weird lime and charcoal shower gel Sherlock used. Perhaps Sherlock had been doing him a favour, scrubbing himself with scented soap.

Or, not.

John was just drying the washing up when Sherlock swept out of his bedroom, in pyjamas and robe. His hair was still damp at the scalp, and his skin was glowing with a freshly-washed scrub. And he was walking slightly awkwardly, in a way that made John wonder if his approaching heat was causing him discomfort.

"Are you ok?"

"Fine. Hot. Temperature going up." Sherlock picked up a glass. "Run the tap until it's cold."

John did it automatically, following his omega's orders. No, not his. "It's freezing, now."

Sherlock filled his glass and drained it, then filled it again. The smell was coming off him in waves, now, every time he moved his arm, every movement of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, the tiny beads of sweat on his hairline. He lowered his glass and looked at John. "John?"

"I'm good. If you could just..." John flicked the teatowel. "Back off a bit. You must be in the throes, now."

"Almost," Sherlock filled his glass again, and this time took it to the sofa. "I must say you're doing rather well, so far. You seem a little snappy, though."

"I seem snappy?"

"I'm hormonal, or something," Sherlock smirked. "Aren't omegas allowed to be a bit brusque at this time of the month?"

"Depends what they're like the rest of the year," John grinned.

Sherlock's lips twitched. "Am I really that terrible?"

Was he flirting? "You're awful."

"You're still here, though."

"Cheapest central London flat around, that's what I'm staying for," John said. He stepped closer, wanting to sit next to Sherlock, to talk gently with him, to... "I'm going to go up to bed," he said instead.

Sherlock nodded, looking away. "Yes. Probably for the best..." he pressed his lips together. "John... in the interest of this experiment, I'd - I'd appreciate it if you might..."

"Lock my door?"

Sherlock nodded again.

John's chest suddenly twanged. "You said you trusted me."

"I do," Sherlock said quickly. "It's... myself I don't."

John blinked in understanding, biting his lip. "Sherlock... I would never hurt you, you know that, right?"

"Not deliberately," Sherlock murmured.

John winced. "I'll lock the door. But if you come... I'll not answer. If you don't want me to."

Sherlock didn't reply, just kept his eyes on the coffee table.

*

John woke almost bang-on midnight. The moonlight shone through the thin curtains, and for a moment John listened for sirens, wondering what had woken him. Then it hit him between the eyes, rushing through his nose to the back of his brain. A scent unlike any other.

Sherlock's heat had begun. And it was calling to John's alpha instincts as though designed for him.


	3. Relieving the Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your kudos and comments, it's made me really want to crack on with the rest of this story! I hope you enjoy. x
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~

The alpha in John forced him out of bed as if it were aflame. He unlocked his own door without hesitation, his nose following the scent that was coming in waves from downstairs. An unbonded omega was down there, in his heat, waiting to be claimed, bred and bitten. And John was just the alpha for the job, following his instincts like clockwork, down the steps through the lounge and kitchen to the

-crash-

John collided with the locked bedroom door, jolting him out of his trance. "The hell?"

"John?" Sherlock's muffled voice came from the other side.

"Yeah, it's me..." John tried to shake himself out of it, breathe through his mouth, but that was worse - he could taste it. "Sorry... Oh god, Sherlock..."

"John, go back to - ahh - back to bed."

"Are you hurt? I can help you," John tried the door handle again. "Sherlock..."

"I'm... Not... Hurt," Sherlock's voice sounded strained. "Go. Away."

John stared at Sherlock's bedroom door in dismay, anger and god knows what else. "You... You're in heat." No answer. "I said this was a stupid..." John walked away and back again. "You... You need an alpha. You know it." 

"No I don't!"

"You might get through this fine when I'm not here, but your omega body knows I'm in the flat, and I can help you."

"No!"

John let out an animalistic whine, restraining himself from clawing at the door.

"John. You're... Stronger than this," Sherlock's voice sounded closer. "You don't have to... give in to it."

"I want to," John said softly.

"Your... alpha wants to. You - oh god - don't want to breed..."

"What are you doing?" John sank to the floor, leaning on the door.

"What do you think?"

"I don't know," John seethed through his teeth. His pyjama trousers were tight. He shifted the waistband down, releasing his cock, taking it in hand. The scent of Sherlock - his slick, sweat and skin - was drifting beneath the door, and it was making John's erection throb. "I can imagine."

"Can... you?" Sherlock's voice wobbled.

"Yeah," John squeezed his cock, knowing there was no way Sherlock would open the door. "Probably imagining wrong though. Oh Jesus, Sherlock, I want you."

"No - you don't - your - alpha wants - my omega - you're better than thisssss," his voice turned into a moan. John started to gently work his hand. "You think so?" "I know. John. You don't want... Ah!"

"Fuck!" John ran a thumb over his glans. "Fuck, are you touching yourself? I can smell your slick, Sherlock, I want..."

"So are you!" Sherlock snapped.

"What do you expect?" John gasped, hand still going.

"I don't know."

"Fuck, Sherlock, some alphas would break your door down."

"Don't."

"I won't." John closed his eyes. He was sweating, now, his cock throbbing, large in his hand, desperate to plunge into the slick he could smell coming from Sherlock's entrance, but Sherlock didn't want him. John was stronger than this. He would not force Sherlock. He'd not be that alpha. "Sherlock, I'm -"

"I'm relieving the need to have something... Inside me," Sherlock's shame-filled voice cut him off. John almost gasped. He gripped his erection tighter, in two hands. "That's good."

"It's an - god - alpha-size..."

John snarled, involuntarily.

"It does the job," Sherlock said instead. "To - to a point."

"To a point," John nodded, quickening his hands. "How's it feel?"

"Feels... good."

"Not great?" "It's... silicone. My body... knows. Difficult. You. An alpha. So. Close."

"Oh..." John bucked his hips. "God." "You're thinking. About it." Was that the squish of Sherlock fucking himself with a toy John could hear? "Yeah."

"You're... touching..?"

John sighed. "I'm wanking off an alpha cock the size of a forearm and thinking about sinking it into your arse, OK?" Sherlock responded with a soft cry, and that was definitely a wet sound John could hear.

"John..."

"Sherlock, if you want this..."

"I can't. I don't."

"I won't bite you," John was begging now. "I'll just help you. You need a knot, I can smell how badly your body needs a knot." Sherlock moaned, muffled into either covers or a mattress, the noise of a toy thrusting in and out of him clearer than ever. "I can't! Oh god, I need to..."

"Sherlock-!" John's arms were cramping. His knot was swelling at the base of his cock, and he was almost blind with lust.

"I'm going... Going to -" Sherlock's climax was a symphony of moans and cries, the sound of him creakily fucking the mattress as he sank the sex toy into his arse.

John tipped over the edge. "Fuck!" Come spilled out of him, quantity to fill an omega's womb, but wasted. It was an orgasm that was pleasure and sadness mixed like oil and water.

As soon as it was over, John stood, cleaned up the mess with the kitchentowels, and listened at Sherlock's door. Silence. The omega would sleep until his body demanded another round of attention.

But he wouldn't be getting it from John.

John had been rejected. Utterly rejected. And the alpha in him was heartbroken, proud and angry. He went back to his own room, locking the door and putting a chair under the handle.

Sherlock wanted to handle his heat alone?

He was welcome to it.


	4. These Base Instincts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the comments and kudos, it's so great to see people want to read this story, and I hope you like this chapter!
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~

By John's watch, it was four hours later when the banging started at his door. He groaned, acknowledging the nausea that had occurred as he slept. His head felt heavy, as if he was hungover. His temperature was up.

Rejection was making him physically ill.

It was beyond his control, and he should have seen this coming. Sherlock knew nothing. This was never going to have worked. An alpha was supposed to overpower an omega, use his or her greater strength to gain access to breed. And John had not. It was like missing a step as you walked down the stairs - it felt weird and wrong. He was in danger of going into Rut - a time he might lose his senses, and be irresponsible for his actions. He could take Sherlock by force, and legally, Sherlock would not have a leg to stand on. Omegas' right were not much to shout about as it was.

The banging at the door resumed. "John!" Sherlock's voice sounded broken. "JOHN!"

"Sherlock..." John staggered to the door, but didn't open it, or move the furniture. "What're you... Doing here?" John inhaled and the omega's pheromones soaked into the creases of his brain. His cock hardened immediately as his alpha instincts longed to impregnate the omega behind the door. "Jesus Christ, you..."

"John. Changed my mind. Need. Need to..."

John's mouth dropped open, tasting the lust in the air. The scent of need and sex and slick. Oh god, they might just... "You need?" He touched a hand to the door.

"Need to breed, need pups, need - knot -"

John took his hand off the door, though the very action made him feel hot and sick.

"Knot me. Please."

The words went through John like a knife.

"Need to be knotted, please, it's the only thing that will help me..."

"...no." It nearly killed John to say it, but he was already welling up with tears. His eyes stung and his throat was closing up. Sherlock had believed they could get through this because both of them were stronger than their instincts. John had wondered what he would do if Sherlock begged for his knot. But Sherlock wasn't asking to mate with John. Not fuck through a heat or even just be held by him. Sherlock wanted an alpha's cock - a knot, any knot - and that fact John would be the owner of the appendage was apparently irrelevant. "No, Sherlock, I don't want-"

Sherlock punched the door. "Fuck me! I need to be fucked, don't you understand?"

"Then open the front door and let any old alpha bite you," John snapped, the mental image making him snarl despite everything. "What does it matter? You want a knot, go and find one."

"You're a cruel bastard!"

"So are you!" John roared, alpha pheromones rolling off his skin in a display of dominance that made Sherlock moan on the other side of the door. "You fucking knew this would happen-"

"I was wrong," Sherlock said quickly, to John's shock. "Show me how wrong I was. I'm so ready for you..."

"Shut up. You don't want me, you just want your arse filled."

"Is that what you think?" Sherlock sounded shrill. "You think I'd give in to these base instincts so easily if it was in front of a stranger?"

John hesitated.

"You're an idiot, and a cruel alpha," Sherlock's voice was a sob. "You're leaving me out here when I've come to you. I need you, John, I need you, and you won't help me..."

John kicked the chair away from the door. Black spots burst in front of his eyes. He pulled the door, breaking his own lock to splinters. "Fucksake, Sherlock." He had expected Sherlock to be stood there, looking smug at having convinced John to leave his room, but he wasn't.

Sherlock was on his knees on the top step, stark naked, head tilted to the side in an obvious display of submissiveness. "John."

John tried to remember how to breathe. Without the door in the way, the scent of Sherlock's heat was so strong. Like the best food mixed with clean linen, cinnamon, sour sweets and...

"Oh my god."

"John. Need you. I'm in such... need," Sherlock's eyes shone. He was pale, even for him, sweating, erection tipped in a hot pink that jutted from a stomach caved in from his fasting, and his skin looked in dire need of hydration.

A pang of guilt ran through John. He hadn't been taking care of his omega. He was sick. "You're not well," John rasped.

"I just need you," Sherlock said. "I'll be better, then."

"No," John held up a hand at Sherlock's look of horror. "No, I mean, you need water, first. And a bath. And -"

Sherlock stood and grabbed John's pyjama top in both fists. "You can be a caring alpha later. Right now I need you to -"

John shoved him back against the wall, snarling at his throat. How dare this omega tell him what to do? He bared his teeth over Sherlock's scent gland, threatening.

Sherlock went pliant, his omega enjoying the dominance display, yet John could smell a tinge of fear. Sherlock still feared being bitten. The taller man slipped a hand up, beneath John's teeth, covering his scent gland, hiding it from a bond bite. If Sherlock was bitten, he would no longer legally be his own person. John would own him, his money, his property, everything. He'd be chattel, a posession, and if John died, Sherlock would follow him. John would never leave his side, and wait on his every need, care for him and give him children, but Sherlock would be giving up everything he valued, and John was not about to force that on him.

John pulled back an inch, accepting this refusal. "I won't bite you, Sherlock."

He looked relieved. "Even if you won't... Will you help me? Please?"

"Oh god, you'll be the death of me," John ran his nose down Sherlock's throat, inhaling his scent with shuddering breath. He gripped the man's hips in his hands, thumbing over the hard bones. He licked the sweat-stained skin, tasting Sherlock for the first time. 

"Mm," Sherlock bared more of his throat, finding comfort in the scenting, letting himself be explored. He moved his hips in John's hands, letting his erection rub over John's.

"Christ," John's attentions faltered. "Sher..."

Sherlock gently took his wrist, and this time it didn't feel like being told what to do. Sherlock moved John's hand to the curve of his arse, down, before letting go. "I'm ready. I never should have sent you away before-" his voice melted as John's fingers touched the softened skin at his entrance. Natural slick was pooling between Sherlock's arse cheeks, threatening to run down his legs. John sighed, and traced a finger around the opening skin.

"Fuck, you're so..."

"For you."

John groaned. He dipped the tip of his finger inside, and Sherlock gasped, backing onto the intrusion, making John's finger slip further inside. "Oh, fuck."

"Yes, please," Sherlock dragged his teeth over his soft lower lip. "More."

John pressed a second finger inside, so easily the way could have been made for his touch, the soft folds of Sherlock's entrance making John tremble. He wanted to get further inside, explore this man with his cock, find his sweet spots, make him come...

"Sherlock... I don't know if I can wait..."

"Then don't," Sherlock stepped to the side, walking to John's bed, and promptly going down on all fours on the mattress, exposing his desperate arse to the air.


	5. Claim and Erase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for leaving you guys hanging at the previous chapter..
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~

John forgot how to breathe for a moment. His heart had apparently stopped, and his eyes wouldnt focus, because this could not, under any circumstances, be actually about to happen.

Sherlock was bent over on the bed, legs apart, his arse open. "Come ON, John. Please!"

Something primal, something red-hot and undeniable, rose up in John and his doubt and hesitations were crushed. "Oh, fuck." John tore off his clothes without thinking, flinging them every which way. The delicious scent coming from Sherlock was heightened by his spread positon. John could see the open, slight gape of his entrance, which had already - and John didn't fight down a snarl of discontent - been fucked by useless plastic toys. His pink skin was blushed by the stretch that should have come from a cock. This omega needed an alpha, it was the only way he could be complete, the only way he'd be satisfied.

John planted both hands on Sherlock's arse, pushing his cheeks further apart, looking wantonly at the omega's hole. "You're so wet."

"Mm," Sherlock blushed, looking back at the mattress. "John..!" His complaint melted into a cry as John traced a fingertip around the edge of his entrance.

John moaned under his breath. The touch of slick on even his finger seemed to make his blood rush. "Sherlock... I want..."

"Do it, John." Sherlock arched his back, expecting an alpha-sized intrusion. What he got made his arms give way on the bed. "Oh!"

The urge to taste had been too great. John lapped eagerly at Sherlock's leaking hole, tracing around the rim with his tongue before sliding two fingers deep inside him, searching for his prostate as he licked at as much skin as he could reach, teasing and stretching at the taut flesh.

Sherlock grasped the sheets and whined, backing against John's tongue and flinching at the touches. When John's fingers found his prostate, he collasped onto the bed, writhing. "John!"

That wouldn't do at all. John dragged him back up, onto his knees, penetrating him with fingers and tongue again. "Don't run away from me, omega."

"Sorry," Sherlock gasped, his instincts forcing him to submit. "Sorry..." 

"Can you come just from this?" John stroked over the special spot inside Sherlock, making him moan. "I think you can."

 "I..."

 John bared his teeth and niped at Sherlock's arse cheek. "You'll come from my fingers and my tongue, or you won't get a touch of my cock, is that clear, omega?"

Sherlock sobbed, trembling as John resumed his strokes and licks, tongue tracing down to Sherlock's pereneum, the skin of his scrotum tightening as he continued to be pleasured. "John, please, more - need more -"

"Don't think you can tell me what to do, omega."

"PLEASE!" Sherlock turned his demand into a beg. 

John added a third finger to Sherlock's entrance, biting his lip in need as Sherlock's muscles gripped around his digits, soaking them deliciously. "Jesus Christ, I'm going to fuck you so hard." Sherlock whimpered. "I'm going to fuck your tight hole and knot you so well you'll never want another alpha as long as you live." 

Sherlock moaned, and John saw his balls tighten higher. 

"I won't even need to touch your cock, you'll be so full of me, you'll come just from my breath on your throat..." John leaned down to lick Sherlock's scent gland. 

Sherlock came, his orgasm making him shout rather than moan. Thick come splattered over John's mattress - another sign the omega was dehydrated - but John didn't pause before pushing Sherlock down onto the bed and climbing up behind him. 

"Spread your legs," he slicked his cock with the wetness from Sherlock's arse. "Breathe out when I..." 

"Yes," Sherlock nodded, and John realised he was preaching to the converted. Some other alpha had fucked this omega! John had to take a second to compose himself to stop descending into anger. He had the omega, now. Willing, submitting in front of him. John was going to claim him, and make him forget there had ever been anyone before. 

John stroked over his erection once, twice, feeling his knot already growing. This would be hard and fast - there would be time for longer mating afterwards - right now he had to claim this omega, and erase any chance of another alpha taking him away. With no more preamble, he pushed inside. 

Sherlock's mouth dropped open, and his eyes tried to meet John's from where his head was sideways on the bed. 

There was not a word spoken between them as John bottomed out inside Sherlock, the slick, tight grip of his arse only made better by feeling the second bump in Sherlock's insides - his cervix. 

Fuck, John was going to breed the hell out of this man. 

He withdrew halfway and slammed back inside. 

Sherlock wailed, a smile breaking on his face. "Yes..." 

"Fucking yes," John agreed, thrusting inside again. "You're so tight, fuck, how long has it been?" 

Sherlock quailed, his omega not wanting to displease the alpha inside him. 

"Fucking tell me!" 

"Years!" Sherlock cried over the smack of their flesh. "No one - no one as good as - " 

"Who do you belong to?" John thrust harder, faster, needing to claim this omega quickly, needing to know he was his, only his. 

"You!" 

"Who else?" 

"Only you! Only you! You're my alpha!" Sherlock moaned, crying out as he came again, this time almost dry, his arse clenching around John's cock. "Oh god!" 

"You're mine," John pulled Sherlock up, the omega's back to his chest as he drove inside him. "You're no one else's but mine." 

"Yes.." Sherlock cocked his head to one side. Submissive, inviting, welcoming John's bite. A bite John had, only minutes ago, been asked not to administer. A bite that John longed to mark Sherlock with, to have him as his mate for life, to keep him safe and happy for the rest of their lives, to have pups with. 

"Sherlock..." 

"I'm yours," Sherlock breathed.

John's knot was pressing against the tight rim of Sherlock's arse, slipping inside with every thrust as it swelled, threatening to lock them together. The perfect time to do this. The only time to do this was now.

"Oh god, your knot," Sherlock was wincing in pain along with pleasure now, his head thrown back. "John!"

With a final shuddering thrust, John's knot locked inside Sherlock. He came immediately, deep into the omega who moaned his way through a dry orgasm of his own, the fulfilment of mating, of getting knotted, finally reliving the turmoil of his heat.

"Yours..." Sherlock sighed, leaning back as his body relaxed. His scent gland was so close to John's mouth, smelling so good, begging to be bitten.

John lunged.


	6. Chemical Responses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before...
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~

 

John was woken by the sound of the refuse collectors, outside. "Uh..." He rolled over and rubbed his face. He'd barely had two hours. 

"Oh. Oh, no..." He looked at the curled up omega next to him, face placid in sleep. "Oh god."

"'Sherlock' will do," came the reply, Sherlock stretching under the sheet. "Uh, my legs hurt..." 

"Sorry about that," John inhaled as the sheet moved, assaulting him with the scent of the omega's heat. He theorised they had an hour before Sherlock's next wave, but... "Are you ok?" 

"I think so," Sherlock moved a hand to his neck. His eyes widened. "John-!"

 "Yeah."

 "You didn't bite me."

 "No," John shook his head. He wasn't entirely sure if he'd moved alone or if Sherlock had too, but his teeth had collided with Sherlock's shoulder, not his neck. He wasn't sorry about it. He hadn't wanted to do it. 

Sherlock took his hand away, looking at John as though he was from Mars. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Why didn't you..? I remember... presenting," Sherlock blushed. 

John sat up. "Because you asked me not to. Before you were really under the influence. I didn't think you'd be happy."

"I wouldn't have had a choice but to be happy," Sherlock's mouth turned down. "I'd be bonded and the chemical responses in my brain would have -"

John took his hands. "I'm not interested in chemical responses. You didn't want it until you were heat-drunk. I'm not that kind of alpha."

Sherlock just stared at him. 

"And now I get to do the caring part," John got out of bed and pulled on his PJ bottoms. "I'm going to run you a bath. And you need fluids. Can you eat anything?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Can't digest it yet. Still fasting."

"Fluids it is, then. Come down when you're ready?"

 

 

*

 

 

There was something truly adorable about Sherlock in a bubble bath. He sat, sipping through his second litre of isotonic drink, looking a bit dazed. 

"I've stripped both beds and changed them," John poked his head around the door and smiled. "You ok?"

"I can feel it starting again," Sherlock brushed his damp hair back. "John, if you don't want to-"

"I do," John said quickly. "If you'll have me."

Sherlock kept eye contact with the taps. "My body knows you're here, it's expecting you..."

"Ok," John swallowed, noticing the change of scent on the air. "And I'll keep my teeth to myself, yeah?"

"It's nothing personal, John." Sherlock didn't look at him. "I just... I'd be giving up too much."

"I understand," John said, though he wasn't sure which part of Sherlock's sentence he had understood. Sherlock didn't want a mate, but wanted John to fuck him, but only because he was around? What a mindfuck. "I'll let you be for a bit," he left the door ajar, and went to finish his sandwiches. 

It wasn't that John had never found Sherlock attractive before now. Even without counting his gender and the heats that came with it, Sherlock was attractive, and more importantly, John liked him as a person. John had never bonded with anyone, the excuses following his failed engagement being that he didn't want any omega to feel lonely and neglected whilst their alpha was away, or working shifts in either the army or a hospital. Sherlock wasn't like that, though. He was clever and interesting and had his own life. He lived independently, to some extent, and had never expressed an interest in home-making or children-

"Shit." John dropped his sandwich. He had no idea if Sherlock was on birth control. Surely he wouldn't smell so good if he was...

And the scent was getting stronger, better. John pushed his food away, no longer hungry for it, feeling the prickle of desire running over his skin, the way his temperature was going up. 

"Sherlock?"

There was a terrific splash from the bathroom, and the door was wrenched open.

Sherlock stood naked, covered in bubbles, eyes blazing and cock erect, breathing heavily. "John. Now."

John held up a hand. "Sherlock wait-"

"No. Fuck me." He marched over, dripping wet. 

"Sherlock-"

"Fuck. Me."

"You haven't told me-"

"John!" Sherlock reached to undo John's buttons. "I need you to fuck me, right this instant, this is no time to start giving me the third degree!"

"But Sherlock," John stood helpless as Sherlock shoved his trousers down, "I just want to know if you're -"

Sherlock finally shut John up by kissing him, closed-mouthed at first, then working to tongues, hands going for each other's skin, reaching for backs, arses, cocks...

_Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb_ , John thought as Sherlock pushed him back onto the sofa. He sat quickly, Sherlock moving to straddle him.

"My alpha," Sherlock breathed, chest flushed, eyes shining. "Want you inside me."

"Yes," John gripped Sherlock's hips, running his hands down to his thighs, over the skin flecked with dark hair. "Come up?"

Sherlock smiled, raising up so John could aim his erection, then easing down onto it, no preparation needed in his heat-fuelled state. "Ahh," he sighed.

John choked back a moan, struggling to keep his hips still, wanting badly to thrust up, fast and hard. "Ok?"

"Better," the omega panted. "Need to move. Need your knot."

"Shh," John soothed. "Let it grow. Inside you."

Sherlock blinked in surprise. "But-"

"Let me touch you?" John reached between them, feathering his fingers down Sherlock's slender cock. 

Sherlock tensed, his arse contracting around John's cock. "Oh..." He moved, just a tiny bit, and John was sure the very beginnings of knot were already resting inside Sherlock. "Oh John..."

"You feel so good around my cock," John said softly, keeping his strokes light. "Such a good omega, taking so much."

"Thank you," Sherlock put his hands on John's chest. 

"You don't need to thank me," John moved his hips a little, feeling the divine wetness. "I want to pleasure you."

"It's good," Sherlock leaned down to scent John, licking his throat gently. "My alpha..."

"My omega," John tightened his grip, running a thumb over Sherlock's glans. "So perfect for me."

"Only for you," Sherlock was rocking his hips now, John's building knot rubbing at the omega's entrance. "I'm so..." His words dissolved as John gripped his cock hard.

"Oh god, Sherlock."

"John. John, please," Sherlock gasped, bucking his hips, thrusting into John's hand and impaling himself on his hard alpha cock immediately after. "Oh god, your knot. Already inside me-!" He buried his face into John's neck. 

Sherlock's scent gland was right at John's nose, and as tempting as ever. John licked the spot, tasting Sherlock was as sweet as he smelled, nuzzling his throat as their movements increased in pace, John's cock firmly stuck inside Sherlock now, Sherlock on the cusp of orgasm. 

"Now," John snarled into Sherlock's ear. "Come now. Let me spill inside you. Now!"

Sherlock cried out as he obeyed, come spilling onto John's chest as he rammed inside the omega, coming and coming beyond all good sense. 

"Fuck me," John pulled Sherlock close for an embrace as they stayed locked together, John's cock throbbing as he continued to flood Sherlock with come. 

"Maybe another time," Sherlock murmured, nestling into John's neck as his satisfied body went limp.


	7. Sinking in Deeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's heat is making it impossible to concentrate on the consequences...
> 
> Thank you so much one and all for all the kudos, comments and bookmarks! I love each and every one of you, and it makes me want to keep writing!
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rang just as Sherlock was going for John's trousers again. The omega’s heat was just winding up its second day, and John was struggling to remember a time he wasn’t thrusting into Sherlock’s arse. He hadn’t slept or eaten properly, and his brain was a haze of pheromones, orgasms and the memories of Sherlock’s moans.

Fuck, that man was going to be the death of him.

The phone trilled again.

John groaned, swatting the phone onto the floor. But rather than having the desired effect, it somehow rang louder. 

"Oh Christ..." John fumbled for the device, Sherlock growling as he pulled off John's pyjama bottoms. 

"Ignore it!"

"I'm going to turn it off..." John grabbed the phone. 

 

'MYCROFT HOLMES CALLING'

 

John cracked a grin. "Oh. Ohhh… It's your brother."

Sherlock hissed. "Get rid of him. John, I need you..."

John quickly pinned Sherlock onto the mattress with his legs, his alpha strength meaning Sherlock was trapped, struggling naked on the sheets, giving John a perfect view of his open, and clenching, entrance. "You bastard! Hang up the phone!”

"Hush now, my pretty omega," John said holding the phone up. "I am about to speak to your brother. And unless you'd like him knowing how you've begged for my cock recently, how much you’ve lost the infamous Holmes’ self-control, I suggest you stay quiet. Hello, Mycroft?"

Sherlock glared daggers at him.

_"John. Thank you for only letting it ring for four minutes, this time."_

"No problem." John dragged his fingers down Sherlock's smooth back, making him tense, looking at John in placated expectation. "To what do I owe the dubious pleasure?" He swept a finger over Sherlock's soaking entrance. So lubricated with natural slick it practically sucked John’s finger down. Sherlock covered his mouth with his hand. 

_"I am well aware that you have not checked into your usual hotel slash sofa-surf..."_

Ah, Sherlock's heat. John dipped two fingers into Sherlock's hole, teasing the sensitive rim, his cock giving a throb. 

_"...am I to expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?"_

"We're not bonding, if that's what you mean," John scissored his fingers and Sherlock suppressed a moan. 

_"No?"_

"No, I'm... Here, in the flat, yes, but we're not... I'm not your brother in law." John sank his fingers in deeper, and Sherlock backed onto them, his body searching for purchase. 

_"Yet. I assume you have been unable to restrain yourself from avoiding my brother entirely."_

"Do you want a detailed description?" John started to fuck Sherlock's arse properly with his fingers, nudging his prostate as he did so. Sherlock was shaking with the effort of staying quiet, soft moans creeping up his throat. 

_"No, thank you, that won’t be necessary. You realise I am very protective of Sherlock-"_

"Oh god..." Sherlock sighed, twisting to get free of John's trapping legs. John let him, holding the phone away from his ear as Sherlock moved to between John's legs, starting to lick at his cock. 

_"... any prospective mate would have to be -"_

John gripped Sherlock's hair with his free hand. 

_"... at the absolute least, some sort of -"_

Sherlock started to bob his head, letting the hot head of John's cock penetrate between his lips.

_“… and if children are to be on the horizon…”_

John held the phone away, his hips twitching into Sherlock’s mouth. Sherlock coughed as John’s cock touched the back of his throat, then went back for more, sucking it down, whilst keeping eye contact.

 _“…this really isn’t something you can avoid talking about,”_ John heard Mycroft finish whatever the hell he’d been blathering on about.

“I understand,” John said into the handset, moving his hips fluidly, gently fucking Sherlock’s mouth. “Yep. God.”

_“I don’t doubt Sherlock is to blame for some of whatever has transpired here, but-”_

Sherlock grabbed John’s thighs, dipping his head further, swallowing as John’s cock slipped down his throat.

“Fuck!” John whispered away from the phone. “Yeah. Talk soon, Mycroft. Bye.” He ended the call and lobbed the phone across the room before shoving a grinning and delighted Sherlock over onto his front. “You’re too clever for your own good, you.” He yanked Sherlock’s arse into the air, swirling a finger around the rim of his entrance.

“I know,” Sherlock beamed, then cried out as John plunged straight into him without warning. “Oh fuck, John. So good. That’s…”

“Be quiet, for once in your life. I’m going to knot you so hard you’ll pass out.”

“Yes! Please!” Sherlock bent over, holding his arse cheeks apart as John started to fuck him in earnest. The slapping sounds of flesh on damp flesh filled the room, heat-scent and come mixing with the air so both of them were almost high on themselves.

John snapped his hips, holding Sherlock’s waist tight – tight enough to mark him, so even if there was no bite, everyone would know which alpha had claimed this unruly omega – bringing him towards him as he thrust inside. “Fuck, just – bend – that – way…” John changed his angle just a fraction.

“So good, John. My alpha. Fuck me. Want you. Want your knot. Want your – OH!” Sherlock’s arms nearly gave way as John started thrusting over his prostate.

“Found it,” John panted, feeling his knot starting to form. “Oh god, you’re so wet… So ready for me.”

Sherlock could barely reply, he was half-sobbing into the mattress. His cock was twitching as he fought off a climax, and his arse was being fucked hard enough to bruise the muscle.

“Don’t fight it,” John ran a hand up his back. “Want you to come. Want to feel your tight arse clench around my cock – ”

Sherlock lost it, coming over the already ruined sheets, shaking. His arse gripped John’s cock tight, making it harder to thrust his knot inside, but he was going to manage. The growing band swelled quickly as John’s perceived mate reached climax, and slid inside Sherlock with a wet noise of suction before locking them together.

John came in an exhausted kind of violence, groaning aloud as he leaned on Sherlock, trying not to crush him as they both fell onto the mattress. “Oh shit… Are you ok?”

“Never better,” Sherlock sighed, turning his head. “You are never allowed to speak to Mycroft again.”

“After that, I don’t think I could look him in the eye,” John adjusted himself and Sherlock onto their sides. For now, they were trapped together with John’s still-ejaculating, still-erect cock up inside Sherlock. “Oh fuck.”

“One more day,” Sherlock murmured, pulling John’s hand around him.

John nuzzled against Sherlock’s scent gland as the omega relaxed into another nap. The repressed urge to bite was less strong than it had been yesterday, but it was still there. His inner alpha was confused as to why the omega was not yet its mate, and John felt faintly nauseous thinking about it. Sherlock was not his.

John’s hand trailed down from Sherlock’s sleeping hands to his flat, toned stomach.

Mating was the least of their problems. They had other things to worry about, first.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed this work has been classified as part of a series - yes, a sequel is coming, with Sherlock and John living and dealing with the consequences of this shared heat.


	8. Sherlock's Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of Sherlock's heat, and Sherlock has a decision to make about what happens next.
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> Thank you all for reading Part One of this series! Part two will start being posted this week. Thank you once again for all the positive feedback that has made writing this fic such a joy. You're all awesome.

Sherlock's scent started to change around noon on the third day. His natural lubricant decreased to pre-heat levels so on their final encounter John had to use lube from his bedside drawer to get fully inside the omega. Sherlock had had the one orgasm, and fallen promptly to sleep. He was sleeping longer between demands for sex, and most tellingly, John eventually failed to knot him. The heat they had shared was ending. 

They would be left only with repercussions. 

It was mid-afternoon, and the only sounds were traffic outside, and the slight hum of the central heating. Sherlock lay dozing in John's arms, his stomach caved in from lack of food the past three days, a slight blush on his face and neck. He was so beautiful, even without the heat pheromones to give John beer-goggles. Sherlock should have been snapped up as a mate years ago. The fact he wasn’t showed how strong-willed and defiant he was. And it made John love him even more.

He could admit that, now. If only to himself. Sherlock didn’t need to know how much it had killed John not to mate with him, to take him as his husband and the mother of his pups.

John gently scented him, inhaling the vanilla familiarity. The cinnamon warmth was fading, dwindling until the next heat. John didn't know how to feel about that. If he'd be asked. If he'd take himself away again, without being told. How could he walk away from the omega he loved? From Sherlock Holmes?

Waking from the mental haze that Sherlock's heat had cast over him, John was no longer able to fight off the guilt, or the dread. 

He'd taken advantage of Sherlock. He'd tried not to, but it was true that John had gone to Sherlock's room first, and would have walked straight in if the door had not been locked. 

And now...

John scented Sherlock again, tasting how the familiar scent had a tiny, barely-detectable hint of fresh apple on the edge. 

"Mm," Sherlock murmured, pulling his neck to one side. 

So inviting. 

John bared his teeth. There'd be no bond now Sherlock's heat was over, but the urge to bite was increased drastically by the changes Sherlock's body was going through already. 

A bite would have solved so many problems. 

Caused many, too. 

Oh god, they'd really fucked up. 

"John..." Sherlock stretched, limbs trembling as he worked blood back into them. "What day is it?"

"Tuesday. Tuesday afternoon," John said softly. He didn't embrace Sherlock closer, just let him lie there. "How're you feeling?"

"Hungry," Sherlock admitted. "And thirsty."

"I'll make you something."

"You... don't have to do that, anymore. You don’t have to do the caring alpha thing," Sherlock said. He still didn't roll away. "You didn't mate with me. Thank you."

"You're welcome," John sighed. "I didn't think you'd be impressed."

Sherlock rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Mm."

_Does he know? Can he feel it?_

John gave Sherlock's neck another sniff. 

Sherlock put a hand over his scent gland. “You can stop that.”

John leaned back. "Sherlock..."

"John, can you..?"

"Yes, I can smell it," John said gently. "Barely. I doubt anyone else could. I can only smell it because..."

"Because the embryo, or embryos, are genetically half yours," Sherlock said as if discussing the weather. 

John winced. "Sherlock, I'm sorry. I should have asked you if you were on -"

"I didn't stop you, or tell you to wear a condom," Sherlock said. "Stop hoarding guilt."

John took his arm from around the omega. "Sherlock, tell me honestly: did you expect me to stay away from you during your heat?"

Sherlock stayed quiet for a moment. "I don't know. I don't think I suspected things would become this complicated. I suspected there would be some… friction. But this…”

John squeezed his eyes shut a moment. "Ok. So... What happens now? The... Three of us?"

Sherlock rolled onto his back. "I don't want to be pregnant, John."

John gripped the bedclothes. He felt his alpha rear up in rage, in horror at those words. A feeling directly opposed to John's morals and ideals as a doctor, and a human being. He could not oppose this decision. It was not his to make. And yet the animalistic alpha that had been in charge of his brain for the past three days was distraught. "You don't want..."

"No." Sherlock sat up. "I need to go to the pharmacy. Today."

"Right," John sat up, too. He felt sick, hot. He wanted to hold Sherlock. But he didn’t trust himself to. If he held him he might bite him, might hold him still, prisoner, anything. John needed to stay out of this. It was not his decision to make. "Right. Do you need me to come with you?"

"It may make things easier if they are able to see I have your... permission," Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

"You don't need my permission. Legally or - or just as your... friend."

Sherlock's lips twitched as if he was fighting a facial expression. "I know I don't. But still. You know how it is. Or perhaps you don't."

John blinked. He was an alpha. He knew nothing, really. Only what he was taught in class, or read online, or saw on the news. He had never experienced it. He didn’t know the first-hand facts. Nothing about how omegas were discriminated, how difficult it was for them to access basic healthcare without an alpha in tow. "I don't. You're right. But I want to be with you. If you're ok with that."

Sherlock looked at him. "With me?"

"At the pharmacy," John clarified, then wondered if he'd meant that at all. 

Sherlock nodded. "Alright. I need to get ready and go now. I have a limited window before things get more complicated."

John looked away as Sherlock walked into the bathroom. As soon as he heard the shower start up, he let out a whine of sorrow.

He had no right to be sad. He had no right to feel any way about this. This was Sherlock’s body. Sherlock’s decision.

Then why did it make him feel so sad?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should go without saying that I, the author, am pro-choice.


End file.
